


Misunderstandings

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Non-Stop Gifts/AUs [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 5+1, Domestic Violence, M/M, Misunderstanding, Non-Stop - Freeform, Pain Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times someone thought John and Lafayette were in an abusive relationship, and one time someone gave them condoms. </p><p>______</p><p>Alternatively: Five times the universe gives Lafayette Cosmic Justice for a joke he thought was funny, and one time he actually got to laugh about it. </p><p> </p><p>A Non-Stop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Non-Stop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626945) by [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle). 



> Another Non-Stop AU
> 
> Please read Non-Stop by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins) - It's truly wonderful.

 i. 

Lafayette doesn’t care about Kitty Livingston. She’s small, somewhat pretty, and is generally a nice person. She’s an active member of the Cultural Exchange club. Advocating for more culturally appropriate behavior and representation. She’s got her ten step plan. First, she’s going to get a degree from an accredited university. Second, she’s going to find the love of her life. (Doesn’t need to be American, she’s open to her prospects. Then again, “Not American” kind of leans towards “French, please?”)

Lafayette doesn’t care about Kitty Livingston, because she doesn’t register a blip on his radar. She’s an acquaintance. Someone he’s aware of. But beside from her flirtations, he didn’t spare her a thought until John.

 Now, _John,_ has all sorts of feelings about Kitty Livingston. Calling her a ‘bitch’ would be mild. His utter hatred of Kitty is humorous in the way that all freshmen are humorous. And while Lafayette may have opened his mind _(body, heart, and soul)_ to a freshman, it doesn’t change the fact that freshman as a whole were immature and childish more often than not. John’s not an exception.

 Either way, Lafayette’s feelings towards Kitty Livingston are limited to his boyfriend’s opinions and his own ambivalence. Something that is colored almost immediately when Kitty meets him after class one day. Flushing cheeks offsetting her dainty features. Determination clear in her eyes. “Mademoiselle, what can I do for you?”

 She’s biting her lip. Hugging her books to her chest. Takes a deep breath. “Can we...talk?” she asks. “Privately?”

 And this is the kind of mess that Lafayette _actively_ avoids. He likes teasing John. Likes poking fun at him. At riling him up. Making him flushed and flustered.  But actually hurting John? Which he _knows_ a secret meeting with Kitty will do. Not something Lafayette has any interest in. At. All. “Kitty,” Lafayette sighs. “I have a boyfriend.”

 “I know.” She clenches her jaw. “It’s about him.” Freshmen, Lafayette reminds himself. They create their own drama. He checks his watch. He’s meeting John in a couple of hours. Is planning on taking him back up to the overlook. Go for another run.

 “I have half an hour,” he allows. Wishing that isn’t going to somehow get him into trouble. She nods frantically. Motions to the right. The library. Which is good, because it’s public. Open. There won’t be any reason for them to be in a compromising position John can get upset about. And Lafayette chafes at the idea of trying to navigate around his boyfriend.

 Utterly self-aware of all the people he passes. Trying to see who could see. Who could report back. (And that’s foolish in of itself. John doesn’t talk to anyone. He’s a recluse. His friends consisted of Alexander Hamilton and Lafayette. So there’s no reporting. No hiding. But it doesn’t stop Lafayette from hating this experience utterly.

 Kitty finds a private study room. Holds the door open as they step inside. Lafayette doesn’t drop his bag. Just leans against the wall. Raises a brow, and waits. He has no intention of this lasting long. None whatsoever.

 Particularly because he’s not interested in listening to Kitty tell him how John wasn’t good enough for him. How he could do better. How— “John’s abusing you,” Kitty states firmly. Lafayette blinks. _What?_

 She steps forward. Reaches her hand towards him, and he steps back. Realizes belatedly that she thinks he’s flinching. Groans as he buckles down and lets her rest her palm against his arm. Push up his sleeve to reveal the latest set of bruises that John had left on his wrists. It takes Lafayette a minute to grasp the correlation. Then he does. _Merde._

 “I know you’re new here…” Kitty continues. Earnest eyes staring up at Lafayette beseechingly. Lafayette’s struggling hard not to laugh. “But...domestic abuse is _not_ okay. I can help.”

 Okay that’s it. Lafayette laughs. He can’t _wait_ to tell John.

 

***

 

The talk with Kitty lasts well more than half an hour. He hadn’t been able to stop laughing. She’d come prepared. Glossy leaflets with pictures and hotlines. Her bullet-point list of observations she’d made. She’d been quite the little stalker, Lafayette realized early on.

 She’s got pictures of him walking around campus. Bruises and split lips. Long sleeves and dark clothes. She had been thorough in her research. Tried the best to instill a sense of friendly calm in their situation. Becoming more determined no matter how many times Lafayette insisted she had it completely wrong. Don’t worry. He promises.

 Giggling to himself, Lafayette pulls out his cell phone. Taps away at his screen. “John,” he laughs when his boyfriend picks up. Kitty stares at him with wide eyes. “John, mon amour, light of my life—”

 “—You’re running late,” John’s acerbic tone cuts in. Kitty must be able to hear him, because she’s leaning forward. Bouncing on her toes. She squeezes her hands. Twists her fingers about.

 “Meet me at the library?” Lafayette asks. There was a pause. “Please, please. It’s important.” He’s trying really hard not to laugh through the request.

 He can see how this plays out. Can see how this is going to go down. But honestly, it’s so absurdly funny that the humor outweighs the good sense he’s certain he has. John’s going to be furious with him. _Especially_ because Kitty’s involved. But Lafayette’s a dog with a bone. And he wants to chew this bone until it’s all gone. Relishing every minute of it. John groans. Mumbles, ”I’m tired...was gonna cancel as it was.”

 “Please?”

 And sweet John, shy John, angry argumentative ruthless John, sighs. “Fine…” The phone clicks out. And Lafayette snickers. Texts John the private room number so John knows where to go. He shoos Kitty away to skulk behind a stack of books while John ascends the stairs a few minutes later.

 He’s not wearing his running gear. Lafayette’s humor fades just long enough for him to scan his eyes over John’s body. Prone to fits of exhaustion as it is, John looks ready to fall asleep on his feet. He’s in layers. More than strictly necessary. And he yawns as he approaches. _“Êtes-vous somnolent?”_ Lafayette asks. Reaching a hand out to trail his fingers across John’s cheek.

 “I don’t speak fucking French, Laf,” John sighs. He tilts his head into the touch. Lafayette almost feels bad for the teasing he’s about to endure. Especially when he catches sight of the wet streaks around John’s eyes. Rubs at the tears with his thumb. He must be _dragging_ himself to be here. “Just been a long day.”

 Lafayette leans forward. Kisses John’s tired eyes. Wraps his arms around John’s body and pulls him close. Oh well. He can play with Kitty later. He’s not going to force John through this now. “What did you want?” John mumbles. Boneless against his body. Resting his brow on Lafayette’s shoulder.

 Lafayette grimaces. Feeling bad, somewhat, for asking John to come down. “It’s not important now.”

 “Laf, if you made me come out here for no reason I’m gonna—” Lafayette presses his lips to John’s. Silencing him from whatever threat that John had been conjuring up. Whatever it is, he’s certain Kitty’ll take it the wrong way.

 And perhaps he shouldn’t have kissed him. Because John kisses him back. Sighs into his touch. Loose and pliant in his arms. Going with it when Lafayette takes him and walks him back into the private room. Closes the door. Kitty can take it or leave it. But he settles down on a chair. Pulls John onto his lap. Nuzzles him with his chin.

“Kitty Livingston believes you’re abusing me,” Lafayette admits. John huffs. Leaning his head back. Sighing. His collar sags, and there’s a dark bruise under his shirt. There are _dozens_ of dark bruises under John’s shirt. Cuts and tears. Carefully placed slices that John had arched into so beautifully when Lafayette made them.

They’d traded. Going back and forth. Relishing the peaks and valleys of their exchange. John’d been so good for him. So reactive. Flawless in every way. Lafayette had relished in the fight. The grappling. The strikes that John lay against his flesh. The desperation leaking from John’s frantic pace.

“Tell me yes,” Lafayette had whispered against John’s flesh when he’d finally pinned him down. “Or tell me to stop,” he’d lifted a knife. Ran it lightly across John’s back. Squeezing John’s neck. The base of his skull. Powerful fingers holding him firm. Knife sliding lightly over John’s flesh.

“Yes,” John had breathed. Letting Lafayette pull his hair back. Tear him apart.  Break skin.

Now, Lafayette strokes the cuts with his fingers. Hums when John sighs and leans closer. Mouths at his throat. Trusting and pliant. “She says you hurt me,” Lafayette continues. He can see a shadow lurking at the door. Curious eyes peering subtly into the small cut out window. John’s oblivious. Breathing deeply against his throat. Exhaustion pulling him under. Poor John.

But really. This is too funny. Lafayette can’t resist. “I don’t abuse you,” John mumbles. In no mood to argue. Lafayette shifts. Gets his hands into position.

“No…” he agrees. Kissing John’s cheek in apology. “You don’t.” He picks up and flips. John’s eyes fly open. His hands slap out. Catching himself on the table. He’d been half asleep. Dozing against Lafayette’s shoulder. Too trusting by far. 

He yelps. Sluggishly attempting to retaliate. But he’s too tired. Too startled. Lafayette snatches his wrists and slams them down. Barricade’s John’s body in place with his own. “You couldn’t if you tried,” Lafayette grins. He squeezes John’s wrists tight, and John thrashes.

Adrenaline washing away his exhaustion. Replacing it with anger. “What the _fuck?”_ he snaps out. Lafayette sees John’s pulse point throbbing. Heart pounding blood fast and thick. John kicks, but Lafayette’s there. Groin pushing his hips against the table. Pinning him with ease. Gets his knees in place to stop John from stamping on his feet. 

“Hmm...waking up, _mon amour?”_

 “Get off me,” John tells him. It’s not him saying ‘no’. Not yet. He’s close though. Closer than they’d ever been. He’s made John truly angry, and Lafayette can’t blame him. Not for this. Not for what he intends to do. 

He adjusts his grip on John’s wrists, loses one arm in the process. It’s all John needs. He sends his elbow flying towards Lafayette’s face. Uses his momentum to buck his hips. Break free of Lafayette’s grasp. He misses Lafayette’s face, but does turn over.

Lafayette snatches his wrists again. This time pinning John easily to the table. He grins. Covering him on all sides. Relishing the feel of John twisting beneath him. Trying to break free. Unable. Legs come around Lafayette’s waist. Pulling Lafayette and John closer together as John stops trying to escape. Instead, surges up. Crashes their lips together.

 _There he is._ Clever John. Reckless John. John who knows when he can’t win a fight, then attempts to distract. To persuade. Who thinks Lafayette will let him wriggle free with a few kisses and rubs to his cock.

He won’t.

Not yet.

 He pulls back. Flicks his eyes up. Kitty’s watching. Wide eyed. Not even trying to be subtle. It’s not enough. Not yet. _Not yet._

Lafayette surges. Lifts John up and steps back. Turns so John’s back is pressed against the wall. Pressing against freshly made cuts. John gasps. Too much. There’s honest pain on John’s features. Not the pleasure seeking kind he’d had when the cuts had first been formed. This is too much too fast. And Lafayette presses his lips to John’s. 

Lessens the pressure on John’s back. “Shhh….” he whispers against John’s mouth. “Shhh….sh…” Rocks their hips together. Pulling up on John’s shirt a little as he moves. So many damn layers…. 

John’s torso is visible. Bruises and cuts. Scars. There for the world to see. Bandages. Crosses crossed left and right. John’s forehead tips forward to press against Lafayette’s. Breathing through the sharp sting on his back. Sighing as the pain shifts to pleasure entirely. Smiling faintly as he looks into Lafayette’s eyes. 

The door opens. 

John recoils. All but throwing himself to the side. Lafayette doesn’t have a hope in the world of catching him. John falls. Scrambles. Clothes sliding back into place. Hair tumbling into his eyes.  Kitty’s staring at them, wide eyes. Open bewilderment on her features. She looks like she’d fallen over. Landed on the handle. Accidentally opened it. Not intending to be caught. 

Lafayette wants to call bullshit. She’s not nearly that stupid. 

“You-you-you- _you!”_ She can’t seem to come up with words to say. Just stares between Lafayette, half shielding John with his body, and John, who’s trying to get onto his feet but can’t seem to quite manage the task appropriately. 

“You _planned_ this?” John seethes. And... Lafayette turns to him. Not expecting John’s vitriol to be that sharp. That quick. Kitty surges forward. Presses her hand to Lafayette’s arm. Reaches for John’s too, but John avoids her completely. 

There’s something crossing Kitty’s face. A kind of dumbfounded awe Lafayette can’t place. He’s still trying to rationalize it when Kitty says. “You’re his _sub!”_  

Lafayette blinks.

John’s mouth falls open.

Then, he snaps it shut. His fury is unparalleled. Taking one step forward, he punches Lafayette as hard as he can in the face. The pain is explosive. Blood and bones mixing. Swelling immediately. Lafayette’s head and body were forced into a wall by the motion. And it _hurt_. 

Not enough to stop Lafayette from laughing though. The absurdity of the situation still striking him with unbridled joy. He doesn’t think he’ll forget tonight for as long as he lives. “Oh my God,” Kitty gasps as John _flees._ Rushes out the door without a glance back. Just _flees._ Kitty’s lifting a hand to her mouth. Reaching for Lafayette. Grabbing his hand. “Oh my God, you’re his dom.” 

Americans and their _labels._ “I’m not his dom.” He’s not John’s anything. Except his boyfriend. Their give and take hardly touched the boundaries of _that_ world. And if they did...it’d been purely coincidental. 

“Did you ask if he was okay to do this tonight?” she asks. Lafayette blinks. 

Wait, what?

“Because that was just _awful_ if you didn’t have his consent.” His mouth falls open. “Is it in your contract?” _What?_  She’s pressing her lips together. “It wasn’t, was it? You just did this without his okay?” Lafayette blinks rapidly. Trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. She doesn’t give him an explanation. A moment to figure it out. Just gathers her things. And leaves. “I honestly thought so much better of you,” tossed over her shoulder before the door slams closed.  

Somehow, Lafayette has no idea what to say to that. In truth. He still has no idea what just happened.

 Either way. He thinks it’s funny.

 (Until John doesn’t take his calls for a full week. That’s not funny at all).

 

* * *

 

 

ii. 

Hercules and Lafayette have known each other for years. They’ve been friends for so long, that Lafayette sometimes forgets that Hercules doesn’t know everything about him. Doesn’t know the types of things Lafayette likes. That the idea of John leaving bruises all over Lafayette’s body is something Lafayette finds absolutely alluring. That sometimes his desire to pull back the skin on John’s back and watch as blood the drips down, weighs heavier than his desire to cuddle John into the mattress.

 So it takes him a moment when Hercules stares at the bruise on his face and is _upset._ Hercules reaches up and touches the bruise. Expression going stormy. “What the hell happened?” he asks. Lafayette frowns. Telling the truth is on the tip of his tongue. John punched him. But. He winces. After Kitty…?

 Probably not the best idea.

 “It’s a funny story,” he starts.

 “Is John hitting you?” And really, Lafayette groans. Because why is everyone jumping to that very accurate conclusion?

 In for a penny in for a pound. “I deserved it—”

 Hercules curses. Loud and vengeful. He stands up sharply. Smashes his tea-mug into the sink. “You don’t deserve to be hit, Gil!” Lafayette blinks. Stupefied by the explosion. He raises his hands. Of course his sleeves slip. “Jesus _Christ,”_ Hercules’ hands reach over. Jerk the sleeves down and takes in the rest of the bruises. Lafayette may be fast. May be strong. 

But Hercules has an iron grip and a stubborn demeanor. He jerks Lafayette’s shirt up and over his shoulders before Lafayette could even think about arguing. He’d make a joke if Herc even looked _slightly_ in a gaming mood. He didn’t. He looked ready to kill someone. A specific someone. And this isn’t like Kitty. 

Kitty’d been a joke.  A funny joke. One Lafayette would relish for a long while. (So long as John eventually talked to him again). 

But Hercules thinking John was abusing him was an entirely different beast. Not to be trifled with. Not to be fluffed off.  “Herc...mon amie…. It’s not what you think.” 

“Don’t you fucking defend him, Christ Gil— you’re smarter than this.” 

The comment stung. And a flicker of anger started warming between his ribs. Temper rising, he smiled. “I am. Which is why you should _listen_ to me.” Hercules’ hand had been reaching for his phone. And Lafayette didn’t need an SOS going out to the Sons of Liberty. He swatted at Hercules’ wrist. 

His friend shoved him back. “What the hell man?” Hercules shouted.  Growling and spitting fury.  He waved his hand to Lafayette’s body, and Lafayette didn’t _need_ the gesture. He knew full well that his chest was covered in cuts and bruises. Scratches and finger smudges. A small burn on his side. He _knows_ what he looks like. Knows how bad it looks. 

“John and I have rough sex,” Lafayette says swiftly. Hercules shook his head. Drops his phone on the table to actually cup Lafayette’s face between his palms. His thumbs rub against the bruise on Lafayette’s cheek. 

“This isn’t rough sex, Gil.” The front door opens. Lafayette squeezes his jaw tight. _Merde._ Of all the days for John to decide to come home...to talk. Hercules’ fingers tighten around Lafayette’s face. And then his eyes slide to the left. Spying John as he steps into view. John’s eyes flick between them both. Brow furrowing.   

There’s a moment right before violence starts. An electricity that flickers through the air. A sharp stinging snap that sets off the adrenaline in the room. Lafayette can feel Hercules’ tension tight. Attack mode. On. 

He knows Lafayette will get in the way. Lafayette tries to give a warning “John—” he’s thrown to the side.  He hits the ground and is back on his feet in less than a second. It’s too long. Hercules is already on his boyfriends. Hands snapping out.

John stumbles backwards, whipping his backpack off his shoulders and ready to smash it against Hercules’ head. Hercules blocks it. Swings his arm to the side. John’s still scrambling. Trying to get his feet under him.

But Hercules is built like a tank, and tenured under years of service as a street fighter. John’s hits glance off. Hardly doing anything. And that's not good. Because Hercules is going to kill him. He’s shouting. Vengeful. Furious. And unless John starts fighting to kill him, he’s not going to win.

Lafayette dives forward. Takes Hercules out by the legs. Knocking him over from behind. “ _I told you to listen to me!”_ he shouts furiously. John’s on the ground. Breathing hard. Eyes wide. He’s shaking a little, and damn it all.

Fine. If this is his punishment for teasing John with Kitty, he’ll take it. But he doesn’t want John in pieces. Hurt by someone who just wants to hurt him. “What the _fuck_ is going on?” John gasps.

 Hercules starts, “You fucking put your hands on him—”

 “—Shut up!” Lafayette finishes. 

John looks like he’s going to be sick. He’s staring at Lafayette like at any moment the police are going to show up. Slap cuffs on his wrists. Take him away. “I—I—” words are failing. John’s having trouble breathing. His head jerks.

The joke’s not funny any more.

“I _like it,”_ Lafayette cuts in. And Hercules _finally_ looks back at him. “For God’s sake, _Je ne suis pas un idiot!_ John and I fight consensually. He hits me _avec la permission._ I hit _him_ with permission. He is not _abusing_ me. _Mon dieu,_ _vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage!”_ He lets up on Hercules. Stands and marches toward John. Reaching down to pull him up to his feet. _“Est-ce que tu vas bien?”_

John’s mouth is opening and closing. He’s pale as a ghost. “What the hell is going on?” he asks. 

Hercules doesn’t seem to know what to say. “You...you...you _like_ getting hit?” John seems to finally realize what’s happening. His expression shuts down. 

“I’m _not_ abusing him!” He shoves Lafayette back. “But I can _show_ you what abuse looks like if you want to go again!” Hercules just blinks at him. Mouth open. Shocked. He scrambles to his feet. Steps toward John and inspects him. John’s going to hit him. Lafayette goes to stop the fight before it starts, but Hercules snatches the hem of John’s shirt. Jerks it up and stares at John’s body.

 “What the fuck kind of shit do you get into?” Hercules asks less than a second later, stepping back. John swings his arm, but Lafayette swats it down. Wraps John up. Holds him close to his chest. Stifling John’s thrashing. It’s harder than it looks.  

 He bites at John’s throat. Squeezes John’s arms to keep him from elbowing him in the gut. “It feels _nice,”_ Lafayette stresses. “It’s consensual. I _want_ him to do it. I ask him to.”

 Hercules looks like he might be a bit sick. Stares between the two of them. “I ask him to,” John echoes. Dazed. _Why is this happening?_

 Suddenly, Hercules shakes his head. Asks, “You know what?” Holds his hands up. “I don’t care. I really don’t. Just. Don’t kill each other.”

 He peers at John. “Sorry.” Then he leaves. Marching out and muttering to himself.  He’s so done with them.

 Lafayette doesn’t blame him.

 

* * *

 

iii.

 

John’s not angry about Hercules. Oddly enough, he recovers from it rather quickly. Asks Lafayette if he liked seeing him getting beaten by another man. Twists the knife in a kind of vengeful way that makes Lafayette more upset than anything else. Because he _hadn’t_ liked it. Hadn’t enjoyed seeing the look of startled confusion that crossed John’s face as he tried to backpedal. Defend himself.

John and Hercules’ fight had been quick and efficient, but it hadn’t lasted long enough for either to walk away badly damaged. Lafayette’s grateful that it hadn’t gotten worse. He traces phantom patterns on John’s skin. Ghosting over where John had almost been beaten.

 _I’m angry at Hercules, _ Lafayette realizes as he curls around John’s body. He’s angry that Hercules dared to touch what wasn’t his. To attack without permission. Without cause. “I’m still mad at you about Kitty,” John tells him succinctly. And Lafayette’s starting to see what that means. What the consequences are. 

He nods against John’s throat. Apologizes. Means it even. 

He doesn’t get much of a break until John invites him dancing at the school one night. When John elbows him in the face on accident (not an accident), and makes a show of being concerned when Lafayette know he’s looking for something completely different. Lafayette grins. Feels like things might finally start to get back to normal.

Pins John down in his dorm room and takes and takes and takes. He hoists John up. Hisses in his ear. Fucks him until their bodies are singing from every sensation possible. It’s exactly what they needed. And it feels like getting their feet under them again. 

And shortly thereafter, with Alex… 

John and Lafayette set their own worries to the side. Put their arguments on hold. Alex needs their help, and he’s a distraction. 

Until Daniel from the dance club tracks Lafayette down. Wants to check in. “Look...are you guys all right?” he asks. And Lafayette stares at him. Wonders what’s causing the universe to _do_ this to him. 

“We’re _fine._ ” He scowls. “John and I are perfectly happy together. 

“It’s just...those bruises—”

“Are _none_ of your business.” Lafayette’s so sick and tired of everyone butting into his sex life. They all need to back off. _Now._

Daniel tries again. Expression stormy. “John—”

“Is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, as am I.” Lafayette leaves before Daniel can get out the rest of what he wanted to say.

He should have listened. Because for the first time — Daniel had been more concerned about John than for him.

 

* * *

 

iv. 

Peggy stops him at the front door to the dorm. Arms crossed over her chest. Glaring at him. “We need to talk.” Lafayette blinks. There are so many things to talk about. Alex. Aaron. Jefferson. Christ. John had been beautiful taking down Jefferson.

And he really shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not here. Not with Peggy glaring at him, but Lafayette nods anyway. Lets her lead him to her “office”, which really was more of a storage ground for paperwork and spare keys. The door clicks shut behind them. 

“What the hell have you done to John?” The question draws Lafayette up short. He stares down at her. Mouth struggling to come up with words. There has to be a translation error somewhere. He’s certain of it. “He was _limping_ the other day,” he’d wrenched his knee while they were tumbling. “He was _bleeding,”_ a few cuts drawn lightly across his biceps, “His throat was bruised!” Lafayette had brought John to completion with fingers round his neck. Squeezing down until John was flying.

“John’s fine,” Lafayette tries to explain.

Peggy shakes her head. Steps forward. Throws a finger in Lafayette’s face waggles it. “John is my friend. And he _likes_ you, Lafayette. He really likes you. He’s shy and he’s introverted—” 

John? An introvert? Hah. John’s quiet, but he’s the first to tell you his opinions. Throw a punch. Explode from his skin. Lafayette’s trying not to laugh. Trying to take this seriously. Peggy’s face is starting to turn red. She glowers at him. “Are you hurting him?”

It feels different being the one accused. Lafayette stares at Peggy. His mouth presses into a thin line. “I don’t abuse John.” 

She snarls at him. Lips curling up in open disgust. Her frizzy hair stands on end. Her dark skin turning even darker. “Bullshit,” she spits out. “John’s too good for you. And if you don’t _stop,_ I’m going to report you.” 

“There’s nothing to _stop,_ ” Lafayette argues back. Well and truly sick of this conversation.

“I’m going to tell Washington,” she threatens next. Lafayette actually laughs at that.

“Bull _shit_ ,” he echoes. “You’ve got no proof. You’ve got nothing to go off of. And you’re blaming me for something I’m not doing!”

“Treat him right,” she orders.

“I always do.” 

He leaves.

And.

 In retrospect, it likely _wasn’t_ the best idea to choke John into euphoria that night. To leave bruises around John’s wrists so dark that only a black shirt could hide them. To bite John’s lip so hard it splits.

 But John had bucked and moaned beneath him. Had arched into every touch. Had whispered ‘please’ as Lafayette lined up his cock and slammed his way home.  

John had loved every moment of it. And at the time, it had been worth it.

 

* * *

 

v. 

 

The next morning?

It hadn’t been.

Peggy saw the new bruises. Saw John limping again. Called Washington.

Lafayette’s never been collected out of class before. Informed that he needed to meet with the RD that supervises both Alex and John’s dorms while John’s _real_ RD is on sabbatical. But there he is. Sitting across from George “the General” Washington. 

They’d been on friendly terms when Lafayette had lived on campus. And Lafayette had never had any trouble with the man. Liked him immensely even. Found him just, fair, and understanding.

“I’ve heard a disturbing rumor, son,” Washington starts. And Lafayette feels distaste start to coil in his stomach. He glares forward. What little remaining of his good mood spoiling instantly. He bites the inside of his cheek. Hateful and furious. “Tell me about John Laurens.” 

“Not sure what you really want me to say, sir,” Lafayette replies. Keeping his tone light and sweet. Washington arches a brow. Lets Lafayette make it up as he goes along. “John’s my boyfriend,” he starts. “We’ve been together almost four months now. He’s a freshman. Talented artist when he puts his mind into it, loves animals.”

Washington nods slowly. Picks up his pen. Makes a notation. Lafayette wonders what it says. “That’s not what I mean,” The General equivocates.

“Then perhaps you should tell me what you mean,” Lafayette snaps back, sharper than he intended to. 

Washington adjusts his glasses. Nods his head curtly. “I’ve been contacted by two separate students in positions of responsibility, regarding John’s wellbeing. They believe he’s being abused.”

There’s that word again. And Lafayette’s getting sick of hearing it. Getting ready to abuse someone on his own. “I do not _abuse mon amour._ ” The General doesn’t seem inclined to take the words at face-value. Lafayette grits his teeth. “There’s nothing to _tell—”_  

The door opens. 

Burst open, really. It’s John. Breathing hard. Face flushed. Eyes wild. Shaking and upset. Hercules and... _Kitty Livingston_ are standing behind him. John’s talking a mile a minute. Arguing and making excuses. Gesturing wildly. Behind him, Herc looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. But Kitty steps into place. Seemingly ready to launch into another social justice campaign. And good God has this mess truly devolved so much John's using _Kitty_ as a character witness?

Washington stands. Holds out a placating hand. Is patient as John talks right on. “Lafayette _isn’t_ abusing me. And I’m _not_ abusing him. We’re involved in a _very_ consensual relationship. Where sometimes we like to beat each other up for fun.” John never could express his point of view very well. Washington frowns. 

Kitty steps in. She’s got pamphlets. _Pamphlets_ about sadomasochism. About Safe, Sane, and Consensual. About BDSM culture. About its uses in mainstream media. Lafayette wonders if she keeps pamphlets on hand for any argument she’s ready to make. Is amused either way.

Kitty’s launching herself into a tirade, talking so rapidly and so eloquently that it almost reminds Lafayette of Alex. Can see the resemblance as she pushes document after document into Washington’s hands. 

Peggy awkwardly drifting in only a few moments later.

John stands by Lafayette’s side. Child tilted up. Defiant. “I’ve been abused all my life; I know what abuse is. And this isn’t it,” he declares. Lafayette wonders if he could show Washington just what Kitty’s trying to explain right now. Just put his hand over John’s mouth and keep it there until he passes out. Making sure he doesn’t say another damn word, because he really is just making this worse.

Kitty interjects before Washington can pick up on _that_ threat John left dangling so openly, continuing her tirade as if John hadn’t said a word.

They’re all dismissed with a weary wave of Washington’s hand nearly two hours later. Washington looking like he’d rather not know what kids get up to these days, Peggy seeming appropriately chastised, Hercules appearing _very_ sick to his stomach, Kitty all but bouncing with pride, and John and Lafayette holding hands. Dumbfounded. Uncomfortable. And ready to just move on with all of this. 

Kitty throws her arms around John’s neck once they reach the sidewalk. “I’m so glad you came to me,” she tells him. Kissing his cheek then blushing brightly. She’s running away before she can say another word, and John’s staring after her in dumb shock.

“What the fuck is going on?” he mutters. And Lafayette doesn’t know either. But it doesn’t stop being funny.

And after all of this?

They need a laugh.

 

* * *

 

i. 

 

There are many wounds and injuries that John and Lafayette get with their relationship. Some more common than others. Most, they fix just fine on their own. But every so often, they have to go to the clinic. Accidents happen. Injuries get worse than intended. They need to be looked at.  Lafayette will _not_ accept accidental permanent harm in any form. When he breaks John, he wants it to be done with permission.

He won’t accept anything less.

And when Lafayette wakes up in the morning struggling for breath, a rib sorely out of place, John reacts much the same way. He takes Lafayette to the clinic, and they sit side by side. Waiting for someone to come over and take a look.

Eliza Schuyler slides a screen around them, offering them privacy as she politely asks Lafayette to tell her what happened. Lafayette conjures up a story. John unbuttons his shirt as he speaks, so Eliza can inspect Lafayette's injury. She hums and nods, presses her fingers lightly to the wound. Asks him to breathe.

Listens.

“It’s definitely broken,” she tells Lafayette carefully. “But it doesn’t feel like it’s puncturing anything. “The doctor may like to run an x-ray just to be sure, but with injuries like this? It’s usually best to just wait them out.” 

They thank her. Repeat process with the doctor who frowns at the obvious signs of bruises that litter Lafayette’s chest and body. Go through the x-ray process. John holding Lafayette’s hand.  “Sorry Effy,” whispered occasionally as John strokes Lafayette’s knuckles. 

 _“Mon joli monstre…_ so violent. _”_ Lafayette teases. Listening to the quiet murmur of the doctors and nurses. Hearing the words “domestic violence” already being bandied about. He sighs. Rallies himself for round six.

It doesn’t come.

Eliza returns with the doctor. Her initial diagnosis is confirmed, and the doctor leaves as Eliza goes over the best way to handle the broken ribs. “Also, you should be more careful over the next few days.” 

“Careful?” John sighs. Bracing himself. _Wait for it…_  

“When you fight. It might be best to slow down just a little. Or else you really _could_ puncture something.” She walks towards a drawer, and pulls it open. “Have either of you been tested for STDs lately? Also, what’s your protocol with blood? Have you been safe? Because anything with blood is a bio-hazard.”

They both blink at her. She is unimpressed. “Seriously?” she drawls slowly. Then, with a great sigh, she pulls up a rolling-stool and sits. “Okay, take me through it. What’s your normal routine like? Because if you’re not being safe, you’re going to get into a lot more problems down the line.”

 John’s face flushes red. Lafayette chokes on his own breath. Re-evaluates this small, utterly innocuous young professional who has yet to bat an eye at the questions she’s asking. “You’ve got a lotta nerve,” John tells her. It doesn’t come off angry. More...mystified.

 Eliza raises a brow. “I’ve seen a lot worse than you, honey.”

She says she’d show them a diorama, but it violates HIPAA. She then gives them condoms. “Just take it easy. Call me if you need a touch up. _Or_ stitches. Don’t do those on your own.”

Lafayette thinks that next to John? Eliza Schuyler might be his favorite person ever. “Ma’am, yes Ma’am,” he salutes.

She grins. John laughs.

It’s the start of a beautiful friendship. For both of them. 

 


End file.
